An Irish Spell
by Bonbonnett
Summary: On the way to Ireland and Mrs. O'Gall, Jane meets a stranger--it's magic!


**This little vignette takes place after Jane has left Thornfield for Ireland. On her way to Connaught she meets a stranger who offers her a new possible answer to her dilemma.**

AN IRISH SPELL

I was just stepping down from the coach which had brought me from the port to the town when I realized that the gentleman who had been sitting opposite had left his parcel behind. Acting on an impulse, I took it up with my own belongings. "Sir, sir!" I cried, as I ran after him, "Please stop, you've left something behind!"

He did stop, then and turned around to face me, "Ah yes, and is it yourself then, Miss Eyre? I rather hoped it would prove so."

I stood there--I'm sure my eyes were round with astonishment, how could this stranger know my name?

"Come, come now, 'tis on your luggage tags," he said. "But I'm neglecting to present myself, what can I be thinking? I am known as Michael Sean O'Brien, and I am very much obliged to you for retrieving my little package." With that, he snapped his fingers and the parcel suddenly left my hand and appeared in his.

By now, I did not know what to think of him. A few minutes ago, I had simply classified him as a handsome young stranger, now he was suddenly something—else. I took a step back—true, we were on a bustling street in a town full of people—but I was in a strange place, no one here knew me. I might not be able to summon help if it were needed.

"Ah, nervous are you?--'twas only to be expected," he sighed. "You've naught to fear from me, little English girl—you've done me a good turn, and so I owe you something in return." He waved his staff and we were seated in an inn parlor by a cozy fireplace. He glanced at me--"does this meet with your approval? Or would you prefer this?" and we were in a flower-strewn meadow by a country lane. "Or this?" And I found myself in the courtyard of an ancient castle.

I finally found my tongue, "On the whole, I think I prefer the inn, it was warmer. The meadow was damp, and this courtyard is very windy."

He chuckled, "Very well, the inn parlor it is—such a practical young lady as you are indeed!" A wave of his staff found us back at the inn, only now we had a tea tray in front of us. "Will you pour?" invited my new friend. I did so—giving him his tea with milk and three lumps of barley sugar, as requested. He poured it into the saucer to cool, then sipped at it, almost like a cat. He caught me looking at him and smiled--"did you not know then, that once upon a time, this was the correct way to drink it? Sure, and that's why the saucers were made so deep! Such a properly brought up young lady as you are, and they've never told you the way of it? But, enough of this—to business—your coach will be leaving soon—you mustn't be late to Connaught!"

I looked at him askance... "Miss Eyre, you're forgetting the luggage tags—that you are! You must tell me now the three things you want most—then we shall see what can be done."

I looked at the fireplace and I thought scarcely a moment before I said, "I want a home of my own, and an independence to go with it."

"Well said, but those are only two things, there has to be a third or the spell won't work properly."

"That is all I can think of."

"Nonsense, child, there is more—that I know as well as I know my name—Michael Sean O'Brien! Well, if you won't say it, I shall—you are wanting a truelove to go with the rest—are you not?"

I bit my lip and nodded my head.

"Well, 'tis not so hard in the end--all of this may be yours some day if you've but the patience to wait for it to come to you. Have you a handkerchief about you?" I took one out of my sleeve. "This is never a lady's article!" he exclaimed, as he held it up.

I looked at it in dismay—it was the one Mr. Rochester had given me to dry my tears when he had told me that I would have to leave Thornfield. "Oh, I am sorry, I have given you the wrong one, I have another!"

"Never mind," he said, "this belongs to the one you've been thinking of—does it not? 'Twill improve the power of the spell, indeed it will! Now then, do as I say: kiss the handkerchief three times as though it were the one you love, then wave it around your head three times, each time you do so you must say—"Please grant me the wish of my heart!"

"That's all there is to it?" I asked.

"Is that not enough?" His red hair and green eyes seemed almost to shimmer in the firelight,. I swallowed back my doubts and proceeded to follow the instructions. In a trice, all was changed about me. I was no longer in the inn parlor, but on the mail coach, on my way to Connaught, and Mrs. O'Gall, and her five daughters. And, the gentleman sitting opposite me was no longer a handsome young man, but a shabbily dressed, fat old clerical gentleman whose snores kept the rest of us awake throughout the night.

While the coach lumbered along—I asked myself what had happened back there at the inn. Had I just been daydreaming? Michael Sean O'Brien?--a very Irish-sounding name. Surely I hadn't invented that name—it reminded me of something. Just as I was dozing off—it came to me—Shakespeare's Fairy King was named "Oberon"! Surely that was never he—but what whimsy had led him to use public transportation, when as I had seen, he had the power to travel otherwise!

"But I wanted to meet you, my dear one!" was the murmur I alone heard.

**I hope you like this bit of whimsy--it was a sort of vision that came to me. Please read and review--I know you're out there--please talk to me!**


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